


toil & trouble

by soundandfury (supercellbreath)



Series: Omen'verse [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Demon!Chanyeol, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Urban Fantasy, grossly domestic chansoos, i can't not write domestic ugh, witch!kyungsoo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-10-21 05:38:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10678803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supercellbreath/pseuds/soundandfury
Summary: Snapshots throughout the life of witch Kyungsoo and his insufferable demon prince Chanyeol.





	1. graveyard blooming

**Author's Note:**

> basically, this will be a lengthy drabble collection, set in the same continuity as 'kiss it better'. welcome to the omen'verse! prepare your asses for some gratuitous supernatural crime and urban fantasy shenanigans. rated T bc there's definitely going to be some less-than-pure happenings later on, hohoho. will be updated irregularly, since i'm kind of caught up with exams atm.

It’s odd thinking about just how they ended up this way - a mortal witch with his mother’s last blessings clinging to his soul and a simmering hatred in his heart, and a centuries-old Wrath demon from the Eighth Circle of the Underworld with a famed taste for destruction and an even more infamous temper. 

Seven years ago he’d been fifteen and flush with the wellspring of his own power finally blossoming, drinking in the respite his powers offered even as he grieved for his mother and grew ever more resentful of his drunken pig of an uncle. He took out his mother’s journals and spellbooks and pored over them under flashlights as Jungseok staggered home, intoxicated with misery and bitter despair, constantly between jobs and angry at his bosses, taking out his emotions on his wife and his nephew with words and fists.

He’d refrained from trying out the more dark spells he found, because his uncle was family and Eomma had loved him and Aunt Nari did still love some part of him, despite everything. But the anger and fear in him began to come to a boiling point when his uncle took to throwing bottles and glasses, and his aunt retaliated in turn with equal fire, and he hid himself away with his books and chalk trying to escape the screaming. Experimented with ritual circles, sketched out summoning circles on his bedroom floor - just to try it, just in case - mindful of the notes written in the margins of the worn pages, his mother’s flowing script warning about the corruptive nature of demonic energy and the toxic influence it could have on a witch. 

All warnings that he threw aside the night Jungseok threw Aunt Nari against the wall and Kyungsoo felt her bones shatter from four rooms away.

“Owl-eyes."

Kyungsoo jerks out of his reminiscing, blinking hazily as he remembers just where he is right now. The sun gazes down from on high, morning light washing the world in warm tones, stone graves casting shadows to the west. There’s a hot palm curled around his wrist, where he’s holding a bouquet of flowers, the paper crumpling in his fist. His aunt and uncle’s names stand in front of him, carved in white-grey stone. Rustling leaves and birdsong and dead whisperings in his ears, a presence like a blazing bonfire standing behind him, sulfur and smoke and iron thick on his tongue, the sigils carved over his heart pulsing with resonance. 

Kyungsoo turns around. Chanyeol’s eyes meet his own, bright burning embers in a sea of black, framed by a sharp face and silvery gray bangs. “You back with me, ‘Soo?”

Kyungsoo exhales. “Yeah.” Leans into his embrace and inhales, slow and steady. “It’s just been a while. Since I’ve been here.” Seeing as his current residence is within Hong Kong, it’s not often that he drops by Busan, especially considering that he can't exactly waltz back into Korea with the Nine Suns Syndicate* still after him.

“Not your fault, sweetcheeks. Regretful ghosts aren’t easy to get used to.” Chanyeol lets go of his wrist, moving his hand to press lightly against the small of his back in a way that Kyungsoo can only describe as comforting. “Hells, the aura ‘round here never stops being stifling. The whole gang of wisps and wraiths’re all quivering in the corners.” He clicks his teeth, fingers twitching, eyes focused on forms in the distance invisible to Kyungsoo’s True Sight-less eyes. “Yeesh, they  _ reek  _ of misery today.”

“Stop antagonizing the dead, ashbrains,” Kyungsoo murmurs idly. To be fair, any demonic presence usually unsettles ghosts - and Chanyeol is a fully-fledged Prince of Hell, brimming with Wrath and power. Small wonder the ghosts are making themselves scarce within their own territory. “And I know. I can hear them.”

The witch slips off his shoes, standing on bare feet, and kneels to lay the bouquet on the left grave. Bright purple irises, deep red roses and beautiful white lilies and asphodels. He plucks a single asphodel from the bunch and places it on the grave on the right. The names carved into the cold stone have long since carved their memory into Kyungsoo’s hands, his palms running over words shaped like seven years of remorse. 

_ (Shattered glass and plates strewn across the floor, furniture toppled and thrown aside. Nari slumped against the wall, head lolling to the side bonelessly, blood trickling down her pale skin and pooling around her broken form. Jungseok hunched by her and weeping, wailing and sobbing and scratching deep marks into his own skin, sobriety banishing his wrath and leaving only crushing, unending grief and crawling madness. Kyungsoo, at the door, horror freezing him in place, shock locking up his muscles, eyes wide and disbelieving as the demon at his side stepped forth, fangs bared and hands ablaze with flame as he moved to act as the instrument of retribution he had been summoned to be-) _

A soft noise draws his eyes back towards the demon at his side. “These from your garden?” Chanyeol murmurs in question.

Kyungsoo breathes in, blinks away the frozen memory. “Mm.” Roses, red for courage and love and respect. Lilies to honor her name, white for grief and restored innocence in death. Irises, for faith, wisdom and valour, her favourite flower in life. Asphodels -  _ my regrets follow you to the grave,  _ blossoms of the underworld’s desolate fields. The garden has a special place for all of them. “Why do you ask?”

“They feel like you,” Chanyeol says simply, leaning down to thumb at a lily from the bouquet. His touch sears black marks in the ivory petals, and he withdraws quickly. “Tastes like your magic. You pour your heart and soul into these, they’re unmistakable. Which is both good and bad, y’know.”

_ Traceable _ , is what he means. Kyungsoo blinks slowly, contemplative. “Potions are work,” he says, after a moment. “But gardening is more than just potion ingredients. It’s a - an outlet. Something that makes me feel good. It’s worth putting something of myself into it.” 

Chanyeol chuckles, a low bass rumble emanating from deep in his chest. “Feeling sentimental, owl-eyes?”

Kyungsoo looks at him, utterly deadpan. “Chanyeol, we are visiting my dead relatives’ graves. What do you  _ think  _ this is.”

“More than usual,” Chanyeol amends.

The witch opens his mouth. Closes it, and smacks the demon behind him on pure reflex, to the sound of said demon’s indignant squawk. “You don’t have to be rude about it.”

“How is stating a known fact being  _ rude _ ?” Chanyeol whines, pouty, one hand rubbing his knee.

“Anything that comes out of your mouth is automatically rude in some form,” the witch says dryly. “Now stop being a jackass in front of ghosts and shut it.”

Chanyeol snorts, but ceases talking. The steady rise and fall of his breathing beside him is soft but clear in Kyungsoo’s ears, stark against the distant carefree birdsong, the susurrations of ghosts and the whispers of wind in the trees. He closes his eyes, drinks in the soundscape, and prays.

Sitting here and communing in his own way with the dead, with the earth, is peaceful. Healing. The muted murmuring sorrow of the spirits is but one splattering of faded blue on the canvas of mana in the cemetery, drowned out by the triumphant viridian-gold song of flora; grass over graves, trees tall and strong, flowers and weeds growing from death to embrace the sunlight, glorying in life with joyful hymns of exultation. Sparks of other colours flicker on the edges of his senses: insects and bugs, birds and other smaller animals roaming around, each carrying their own melodies. Above and beyond, the radiant azures of the skies, lilting sonatas of storm and rain floating along in the wind; below and all around, the steady bronze pulse of the earth, resonating down to his bones and filling him with serenity. And of course, standing by his side: his demon sentinel, ash and iron and Wrath in the shape of a man, burning crimson and brilliant as always in his eyes.

He still wonders to himself sometimes - could he have changed things? Could he have reached out more to his aunt? Convinced Jungseok to seek help or drove him away? Tried out a different spell, begged Nari to try and talk sense into him? Gained enough clarity to order the demon he’d summoned to stop? (Ah, but he’d summoned Chanyeol with a singular purpose, and the demon had only carried out that will - his Wrath - like he’d been called forth to do. He’d helped put his uncle out of his misery, and in that he was far more innocent than Kyungsoo and the rest of their little family.)

He’s dwelled on their deaths for years, constantly questioning, thinking, regretting. They’d all been blind fools, caught up in their own isolated, warped little worlds of irrational emotion, and ultimately Nari, and then Jungseok, had paid the price for it. He’d been such an angry, bitter, stupid little kid when he was younger, and now he can only atone and repent as best he can.

He’s not really quite sure how long he just sits there, basking in the flow of mana and allowing the world to wash over him in a symphony of myriad hues, breathing in the melancholy air, letting his prayers and the dregs of his old, bitter grief flow out with his exhale. Feeling. 

Finally, he opens his eyes, blinking blearily as he readjusts to the light. There’s soil dusted over his bare feet and in between his toes, and green stains on his palms from where he’s pressed his hands into the gravedirt, and a calm melody pulsing through his bones. “Yeol,” he croaks, soft, feeling something oddly tender in the cavity of his chest. “C’mere.”

The demon crouches down, one brow raised. “You done talking with corpses? Need me to carry you outta here, princess?”

Kyungsoo scowls, dusting off his palms. “Stop ruining the moment and just put out your hands.”

Chanyeol cackles. “Ahh, my grumpy little witch, I hope you never change,” he croons, stretching out his arms and flipping his open palms up together in mock supplication. “Gonna hex me now?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

He picks out the flower Chanyeol touched from the bouquet and presses it into his hands before he can protest. They both watch as the petals crinkle and blacken, but the stem remains whole, and Chanyeol is left wide-eyed, cradling a perfect ash-black lily in his hands. 

The chuckle the demon lets out is deep and low, reverberating through his chest in a way that makes Kyungsoo’s bones thrum and his heart warm. “You never fail to surprise me,” he murmurs, eyes alight and voice horribly reverent in the way that makes the witch feel flushed and stuttering every time, even after seven years. “Flowers made to take demontaint, so they just absorb it and change colour accordingly?”

Kyungsoo nods, nonchalant. “They’re good taint and rot indicators. I finished a working strain of lilies just last week.”

“And you never  _ told  _ me?” Chanyeol asks, mock-wounded, one hand on his chest. “I am positively  _ betrayed _ , owl-eyes.”

The witch snorts. “They still need a lot more tweaking to achieve my original target. Didn’t want you coming in and potentially destroying months of effort,” he says, flicking the demon’s chest. He softens a little and mumbles. “This one’s for you.” Most flowers end up crumbling under Chanyeol’s touch - a natural result of a Prince of Wrath’s taint in conjunction with Chanyeol’s own affinity for flame and ash. It’s something that’s bothered him for a few centuries, ever since his power built up too strongly and the blossoms he loved began to disintegrate in his hands.

Chanyeol grins from ear to ear, tucking the lily into his breast pocket so it peeks out, ash-black a stark contrast against the blood-washed pink of his shirt. “I fucking  _ love  _ it, sweetcheeks. You always give the best presents,” he coos. Long arms reach out to wrap the witch in a clingy, too-hot embrace, and he rises from his crouch, sweeping Kyungsoo up off his feet and into his arms and peppering him with filthy kisses in front of his aunt and uncle’s graves, in the middle of a damn cemetery. 

_ Demons _ . Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, slings his arms around Chanyeol’s neck, and just lets it happen. Only the dead are around to see him sizzle pink and melt into the demon’s arms anyways.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The Nine Suns Syndicate is the biggest magical criminal organisation in Asia, with strongholds in South Korea, Japan, China and Taiwan. As to why they're after Kyungsoo, um. Well. That's a story for a later date, but suffice to say there's a long, convoluted, dark backstory behind it that I may never write in full because there's really far too much involved there.
> 
> Kyungsoo has magical synaesthesia, essentially - he can sense the mana in his surroundings in the form of colours and sound. This is his particular manifestation of aura-sight, otherwise known as the Sixth Sense. True Sight is a different thing entirely, which involves perceiving the true forms of things and also the ability to see ghosts. Demons get automatic True Sight perks, but Kyungsoo manages pretty fine on his own.
> 
> Chanyeol is absolutely that asshole who throws a red sock into a white-coloured load of laundry. In this case, said proverbial sock was actually a shirt stained with the blood of several other demons. Kyungsoo doesn't know why he puts up with this.


	2. just another tuesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is!! very very short!! i'm very bogged down with fest fics right now orz,,,,, updates for this will be extra slow for the remainder for the year but i'll try to get a little more out before we hit december i swear

It’s eight o’ clock on a Tuesday morning, soft morning light filtering in through the windows and bathing the flat in warm tones, seeping in through Chanyeol’s eyelids. 

The serenity is quickly dampened by the furious aura of an irate witch, magic lashing out and making said witch’s presence acutely felt. The furniture fairly rattles in his wake as he storms into the kitchen.

Chanyeol twitches from where he’s sprawled out on the couch, carefully opening his eyes and sitting up a little in his seat. There’s many reasons as to why his cute master would be this incensed so soon after dawn, but there’s only one person who can induce the sheer frustration that drenches the witch’s aura so vividly. “You alright over there, owl-eyes?” 

“Jinhai’s shipments have been delayed by two weeks and that asshole  _ Wolf  _ wants  _ ten litres  _ of Satoko’s draught*,” Kyungsoo snarls, spitting the name like a curse, the dust in the air around him quivering and the shadows at his feet writhing with his displeasure. The effect is slightly ruined by the mountain of delicate white chrysanthemums in the bowl in his arms, which he carefully places atop a weighing scale. “On  _ top  _ of his usual order of salve and Brightwater. By the  _ end of this week _ . Insufferable, demanding  _ trollspawn _ ,” he seethes. Apparently satisfied with the reading on the scale, he takes the bowl off the scale and places it on the counter, reaching up to the top shelf to grab a large container labeled with ‘rosemary’ in neat black marker.

Chanyeol whistles lowly. “What army is he planning to poison this week?” he asks, in a tone bordering on mildly incredulous. “That’s enough to get a whole party wasted.” 

“He’s fucking _lucky_ I have enough gukhwa for this shit, my stock will be _bare_ after this,” Kyungsoo fumes as he takes out another large container of mint, shaking it to both dislodge the leaves plastered to the sides and express his fury. “Fuck. I’m going to have to go out and haggle with that hag Jia Hua for mamushi venom, and track down Yamaguchi for tengu feathers - fuckin’ _kkangpae_ , I’m gonna have to close the damn shop today to get this done in time.”

Chanyeol raises an eyebrow. “You gonna work through the night?”

Kyungsoo exhales sharply, markings glowing amber and aura flaring around him in response, gripping the edge of the counter with enough force Chanyeol could swear he hears a tiny crack. “It needs to be finished brewing by tomorrow morning, ‘cause it needs to sit in sunlight for  _ eight full fucking hours.  _ Brewing it alone takes approximately six hours, because there’s  _ four damn stages  _ where it needs to sit and simmer or cool for long periods of time. And on top-” the witch hisses, little shards of stone actually breaking off from the counter and hovering around him in orbit, “-of all that, I need to go track down stupidly esoteric Japanese potion ingredients because the draught doesn’t  _ work  _ with anything else. Yes, I am in fact working through the night, because Byun fucking Baekhyun wants it done by _Friday_ .”

Chanyeol winces, getting up out of his seat mid-rant to go over and lay a warm hand on the back of the smaller’s neck. “Okay, got it, owl-eyes. Calm down before you break something.”

The witch flinches, then deflates, sighing and rubbing his temples. The stone shards descend gradually, falling soundlessly to the floor. “I  _ hate  _ him,” he hisses bleakly, slumping back into the demon behind him, who obligingly takes him into his warm arms and holds him close, swaying back and forth gently. “Goddamn fuckin’ kkangpae. Him and his stupid fucking last-minute orders that I can't goddamn refuse.”

“I know, sweetcheeks,” Chanyeol murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to his head, sneaking one hand under Kyungsoo’s shirt to splay a warm palm over his hip and rub soothing circles into the skin. His little witch gets so worked up at having to obey the whims of a gangster - the man who’s hired him to be his direct potion supplier, who holds the damning secret of his murdering and demon-summoning in his pretty hands and is the most steady stream of revenue he has.  And the worst part of all - Chanyeol can’t even kill him for daring to blackmail his witch, becausewithout Baekhyun keeping the shop hidden under the protection of the Qing Long Bang**, they would no doubt be eventually flushed out by the full might of Nine Suns, even with all of Kyungsoo's spells and traps and all of Chanyeol's demonic power. "Want me to cook today?”

“Mm,” Kyungsoo mumbles, in a tone he will never admit as plaintive. “M’ gonna need it.”

Chanyeol presses another kiss to his head, breathing in the scent of roses and earth and magic, entirely Kyungsoo and unmistakable for anything but. “I’ll cook your favourites, m’kay? And I’ll go close up the shop for you. You just stay here and take stock and figure out which fuckers you’ve gotta hunt down today, then go out to market and haggle said fuckers till they cry and beg for mercy. I’ll be right here when you need a strong, sexy demon Prince to ravish you into oblivion.”

“Is that supposed to be motivation,” the witch mutters. A smile tugs at the edges of his lips, curving them into a heart shape, and he tilts his head back to nuzzle the demon’s neck ever-so-slightly. “It’s so  _ vague _ , too. Barely even a plan.”

“The best plans are the ones you develop in the  _ moment _ ,” Chanyeol sniffs, detaching one hand from the witch’s skin to wave it about in imperious fashion. “All you need is the framework, and you can come up with the itty-bitty insignificant details on the fly.”

“ _ Gosh _ , I’d  _ hate  _ to see what  _ you  _ think of as  _ insignificant _ ,” Kyungsoo mocks, voice lilting with sarcasm. 

A bass harrumph. “You sassy little shit, I’ll have you know that all my plans work out  _ amazingly _ -”

Kyungsoo cuts him off with a snort, tilting his head back and reaching up to drag the demon down, dropping an affectionate kiss onto Chanyeol’s lips. The demon instantly shuts up, arms automatically tightening around the witch’s frame, parting his lips and licking into Kyungsoo’s mouth. They kiss for a brief few moments before separating, both flushed and grinning. 

“Alright, asshole, I get it. Go put up the sign for me.” He softens, eyes going warm and tender. “Thanks.”

“ _ Aww _ . Anything for my favourite little cockslut,” Chanyeol coos, batting his eyelashes, and runs away cackling before Kyungsoo can smack him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Satoko’s Draught  
> A truth serum with intoxicating qualities and a taste mimicking rice wine, named for the enterprising Japanese witch who first concocted it in 1934 to uncover the truth about her cheating husband’s affairs. Since then, it has gained minor popularity as a tool in espionage and information-gathering, and is the ideal potion for those who wish to wring out secrets with subtlety.   
> Those under its effects become ‘loose-tongued’ - incapable of answering questions with anything but truth, with impaired senses and judgement and in a hazy malleable state of mind much like drunkenness. Even imbibing a small sip of Satoko’s draught is enough to bring on a mild loose-tongued state, and downing a whole glass basically gets them utterly wasted.   
> Its main components are shiragiku (white chrysanthemums), rosemary, mint, tengu feathers, rice seeds, crushed crow bones and mamushi (Japanese pit viper) venom, and once brewed it must be left to settle under sunlight for eight hours straight.
> 
> **The Qing Long Bang are the Hong Kong chapter of the Ssang Yong Pa (english - Blue Dragon), and the second strongest branch. A criminal organisation with footholds all over East and Southeast Asia, originating from South Korea and with branches in Japan, Vietnam, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, China and Taiwan. The Qing Long Bang are the top players in Hong Kong, keeping their grip over the city strong even in the face of the Nine Suns Syndicate's attempts to take it over, making it one of the few major cities in East Asia where the Nine Suns do not reign.


End file.
